The New Normal

Colorado is now in a "partial reopening." I don't have the slightest idea what to do. The prohibitions have been in place just long enough to scare the hell out of me and change my behavior.

My state of mind isn't helped much by the dire news accounts of angry customers shooting clerks trying to enforce their company's mask policy. 

I've convinced that we will never return to the "old" normal. We certainly didn't after 9/11. It was a whole new ball game. We learned to accept tightened security measures and inspections. The "new normal" back then became policing children's safety at school and an enormous increase in people carrying guns. We were forced to absorb one mass shooting after another. Our country continued to function under the new rules. We became suspicious and vigilant. We also became more anxious. 

As is the case with most writers, self-isolation isn't as hard on me as it for people with extroverted personalities, although last Monday I went back to the regular routines that have always served me well. It was time to stop lying around.

Nevertheless, I'm feeling very vulnerable. I'm diabetic and if my miserable allergic responses to spring are any indication, I certainly have a compromised immune system. My age doesn't help ether.

This week I wrestled with melancholy. I was struck by our blogmaster, Rich Blechta's post. He said that nearly every musician was unemployed. I was stricken with the awareness that I couldn't go to Rocky Grass this year. It won't be happening! I recalled all the dances I've attended--the joy of music and concerts. Even if the events take place, I won't feel safe attending venues with large groups of people.

God speed to all the scientists who are struggling to develop a vaccine. 

Mind For Rent

This morning I looked up all the details for Clay's Compromise of 1850. It has five parts. I forget what they are already. Also, I'm sure you will all be interested in the exact Latin translation of mea culpa. Did you know that it's really too early to plant canna bulbs?

Caesar crossed the Rubicon in 49 B.C. and not only made everyone in Rome mad, he left us with cute phrases such as "crossing the Rubicon," and "the die is cast." When contact makers ask for "power" on their on-line prescription form it doesn't match up with anything on the optometrists sheet.

Last week I finished a really hard book review about an academic book, When Sunflowers Bloomed Red. It was hard because the editor only allowed 150 words for a really complex book. I also joyfully jumped right into the edits for my very short novella. It took me one day.

And now. . .clearly I'm descending into some kind of Google craziness wherein it seems really, vitally, extremely important to look up something this very minute.

Oddly enough I have all kinds of essential household projects I could be doing. I want to go through all my files and papers before I die. I want to finish quilts for my grandchildren. And oh yeah, the photos. But I can't get motivated.

One of my very best and most admired writing friends once told me "writers who aren't writing are prey to a sort of free-form anxiety."

Little did she know that writers who swear they don't mind the coronavirus isolation are even more susceptible to Google Fever, and electronic consumption in general.

Is there anyone out there who is taking advantage of this social sequestering to complete all the tasks they have put off in the past?

Pandemic...writing it into your work? Or not?

I’m facing two problems with my newest writing project.

One: Should I incorporate the pandemic into my plot?  Should I make reference to it?

Two: What will life be like in a year from now?

I have a hunch that wearing masks will become ubiquitous, much like it always has been in Asia.

I also believe that shaking hands will become a thing of the past.

And once this is over, I’m guessing there will be a glut of office space that will become available.  Companies will have proof that their employees can function quite nicely from home.

Teleconferencing has already become the new normal.

Will people be carrying around cards proving that they’ve either tested normal or tested that they have had the virus and have built up immunity?  Will those people be the only ones who will be able to go to work, socialize in a bar, or dine in a restaurant?

I recently sent my latest book, Shadow Hill, to my publisher.  Of course I’m always on pins and needles until I hear back from her.  You’re hoping that your work is good, but in the back of your mind, you’re worried sick that they’ll think it’s trash.  When I started writing Shadow Hill, it was easily a year ago.  No one had even heard of Covid-19.

So, there is absolutely no mention of it in the manuscript. Not one word.

In the book, people shake hands, they have face to face meetings, they have drinks together, and they have sex.

In writing the new book, I hate to think that my protagonist might be forced to conduct her investigation and do an interview from her kitchen using Zoom.  I’m not sure I can write an action scene where everyone is wearing a mask. And writing a sex scene between two people who haven’t been isolating for fourteen days?  “No, darling, I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until they invent a vaccine.”

In the New York Times this morning, there’s a lengthy piece about what the next year or two may look like.  It ranges from the mildly frightening to the downright horrifying.

So the big question is: what will be the effects on our writing?

Living in the Kill Zone

I'm 64 years old, which puts me inside the foyer of the Coronavirus kill zone. Fortunately I'm in good health. At least, I hope I am. If you hear that I've keeled over before my next post, then I spoke too soon.

It's a strange time. As I noted in Facebook, this feels like a slow-motion Apocalypse. One with wifi. All my book signings and convention appearances have been cancelled. My writing seminars at this summer's Litfest will be conducted on Zoom, the new medium of business and social communication.

When I take my dog for his walk, I notice quite a few people out and about. Most are with their dogs and the rest either couples enjoying a stroll or kids on bikes with a parent supervising. The playground at the local park has been marked with yellow tape and placed off-limits. Schools, libraries, and churches are closed; liquor stores and pot shops have been deemed "essential" and remain open. When Denver first issued the stay-at-home mandate, places that sold booze or weed were to lock up. Lines immediately formed. Emotions heated from anxious to testy. Wisely, to cool things down, the mayor granted an exemption, as did the governor. And the law prohibiting restaurants from selling liquor for off-premises consumption was also lifted. So on the plus side to this catastrophe, you can even get cocktails delivered or served with take-out. Causes you to wonder just how pointless such laws actually are. Although it's cheaper to buy booze at the liquor store, the act of getting adult beverages delivered makes imbibing them seem a little more tasty.

One of my favorite phenomenons is the law of unintended consequences and this pandemic has brought plenty of examples. In this case, that nature abhors a vacuum. With people's travel restricted and their subsequent absence from the greater outdoors, mountain lions have ventured from the foothills and into the city of Boulder. Groups of these pumas have been photographed wandering the streets, no doubt cataloging where the neighborhood pets can be found for later dining. There hasn't yet been any clashes between mountain lion and human, but when the quarantine is relaxed and people rush back outside, the big cats might not so easily yield and return to seclusion.

A lot of people are hanging out on their front porches, enjoying their to-go margaritas. Outwardly, the mood is like a prolonged recess. All whom I've met have been friendly, cordial, and keeping the approved social distance. At the bus stop, when passengers disembark, everybody, including those waiting by the bench, immediately shuffle in a comical dance to maintain a six-foot boundary.

But I can't deny the inner foreboding, the grim tension behind the calm facade. Part of that angst is of course because of the virus, and to what extent it will ravage the population. Who and how many are going to die? The other part of that worry is about the economy and the loss of jobs and income. If you've ever been unemployed, I have--twice--you know the malaise that corrodes your spirit. Not working is no vacation. It feels like you're being smothered.

As a species, we humans have a remarkable capacity for survival. The purveyors of doom and gloom regard our situation as a fixed circumstance and dismiss our ability to learn and adapt. Seeing as we are Type M for Murder, I'm waiting for when this crisis eases and the criminal shenanigans to appear. You know, like those bodies that wash up after a flood with bullet holes in them.

On Writing, the Pandemic, and Self-Isolation

I’m putting the finishing touches on my latest Geneva Chase novel and getting it ready to send to my publisher by the first week in April. They’ve asked me to put together a 250-word description of the book that could possibly be used on the back cover as well as a 650-word synopsis.

Additionally, it was requested that I send over a description of the “emotional hook” of the novel to help with the cover design.

I can’t recall ever being asked that before. After giving it a fair amount of thought, the “hook” for Shadow Hill is that Geneva Chase is trying to gain control of her life in a world that is out of control.

It struck me as being appropriate for what we’re going through right now. It’s like we’re all living through an improbable international thriller film. It has all the elements of a hell of a story: a viral pandemic for which we have no treatment or vaccine, a slow, clumsy start to testing, we’re running desperately low on hospital masks, gowns, and respirators, entire states being shut down, and a world economy is in shambles.

Don’t even get me started on the politicians.

I’m doing my best to complete my publisher’s requests as well as finishing my manuscript but finding it hard to stay focused. My attention keeps pivoting to real life. I worry that whatever I write can’t possibly compete with the story that’s unfolding worldwide.

I can’t control what’s happening in the world, but when I should be writing, I can control my immediate surroundings. I get myself a hot cup of coffee and turn on some unobtrusive, ambient music. I pull up whatever I’m working on onto my laptop and get to it, ignoring the bad news, at least for the time being.

The world that we writers create is something that we totally control.

An unintended consequence of this virus is the self isolation. I know some people have a problem with it, but I think most writers are good at self-isolation. It's how we work.

I once heard a publisher say, “Most writers are damned hermits.”

Isaac Asimov said, “My feeling is that as far as creativity is concerned, isolation is required. Creation is embarrassing. For every new good idea you have, there are a hundred, ten thousand foolish ones.”

PS...because of the coronavirus, all the schools have closed, including our local college where I was teaching creative writing. I was two weeks shy of finishing the course. One of my students sought me out and asked if I would critique the last assignment I'd given them. I took it as a compliment and told him that I would.

Stay safe. Stay healthy.